


Winter Heart, Whispered Words

by EndoratheWitch



Series: Holiday Drabble requests [22]
Category: Strange Magic (2015)
Genre: Bog as Krampus, Christmas Smut, Doing weird stuff with Krampus, F/M, Griselda as Perchta, Krampus - Freeform, Marianne as Santa's daughter, Mythical Beings & Creatures, Santa Claus - Freeform, Yuletide
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-16
Updated: 2019-12-22
Packaged: 2021-02-26 05:42:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 18,326
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21818374
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EndoratheWitch/pseuds/EndoratheWitch
Summary: Marianne must deliver the naughty list to Krampus.
Relationships: Bog King/Marianne (Strange Magic)
Series: Holiday Drabble requests [22]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/358763
Comments: 42
Kudos: 128





	1. Traveling the Winter Wood

**Author's Note:**

> Off-beat Christmas request!

The room was filled with the scent of baking gingerbread and vanilla, a scent that Marianne usually found calming. But not tonight. 

Marianne sat at the table wearing her usual relaxed outfit of dark purple leggings and a thigh-length sweater dress of dark purple, dark blues and trimmed in white fur (which drove her father crazy since she refused to wear the standard white and red, or green and red outfit that nearly everyone else around here wore.) She watched a group of elves as they all stood in a line in the workroom (each one looking as if they were about to be executed) while Pare, the head elf, dressed in his bright green tunic and leggings, his pointed elf hat on his head at a rakish angle, walked down the line and each of them drew a long stick from his hand. 

Standing in the line was Sunny, looking as nervous as each of the other elves. He smiled weakly at Marianne, then shifted his gaze to Dawn, who was sitting near her sister in her red and white dress and leggings. She looked sick and nervous as she bit her nails. Marianne sighed. Dawn and Sunny had just recently begun a sweet romance, though tonight might throw that off the sleigh runners if Sunny drew the short stick from Pare’s hand. 

Marianne had seen this every year, the elves drawing sticks to see who would be taking the naughty list out to the winter woods to deliver it to Krampus. The tradition of taking the naughty list out to the woods happened every year, and every year someone had to be chosen for the task. Every elf was terrified of being chosen for the assignment. Every elf who ended up going into the winter woods to see Krampus came back with horror stories, terrified by what they had witnessed. They were never the same, refusing to speak Krampus’s name out loud. Once they returned and gave their stories, each elf who had been chosen refused to speak of that night again. 

Marianne didn’t approve. Coal in naughty children’s stocking was good enough. Why terrify them by allowing Krampus to visit them and swat them or bag them up and take them to his lair! It was cruel. On top of that was this annual selection of an elf to deliver the list too! 

Cruel and unusual punishment, that’s what Marianne had argued, but her father, Kris Kringle--or Santa Claus to the wider populous--or when it was just the family at home, Dagda. Or Dad, had told his eldest daughter time and time again that it was tradition, it was simply how things were done, how they had always been done. He also tried to convince her that Krampus was important, that he served a valuable function in the lives of children, to keep them on the path of good. 

Marianne thought it was all hogwash. 

Well, Marianne didn’t see why it had to continue to be done that way. Someone needed to take a stand against Krampus and his reign of terror. Marianne had no idea what she was going to do about it, but… 

“All right everyone, let’s see your sticks,” Pare called out. 

All the elves held up their sticks at the same time which was followed by a high pitched gasp from Marianne’s sister Dawn. 

Marianne looked at the sticks each elf held and saw that Sunny held the short stick. Sunny’s eyes widened and all the blood drained from his face. The elf fell, fainting on the spot. 

* 

Dawn was in tears. 

Marianne frowned, sitting beside her sister’s bed and rubbed her back as Dawn sobbed her heart out. The usually cozy room with its cheerful fireplace and handcrafted decorations of Christmas trees and reindeer was sad and dreary at the moment. Sunny was off being prepared for his journey into the winter wood. He was going to come by to say good-bye in a few minutes. 

Dawn was inconsolable. 

Sunny was petrified. 

Marianne had hurried off the moment the choice had been made to try to talk some sense into her father and her mother who was helping with putting together the naughty list, but both her parents had been as unmovable as ice sculptures; neither one of them would listen to her. All they said was that it was tradition. 

Tradition! Tradition! Tradition!! 

If Marianne heard that word one more time, she was going to punch a reindeer!! 

Marianne was contemplating going to fetch her sister a nice cup of hot cocoa (with a healthy dose of chamomile mixed in to calm her down) when there was a slight knock at the door. 

Dawn pushed up from her bed, her eyes bloodshot and her cheeks tear-stained. “Is it Sunny?” 

Marianne stood up and walked over to the door, opened it a crack to look out and see a terrified Sunny standing there dressed in a thick evergreen parka, a heavily fur-lined pointed elf hat, and a large pack on his back. 

“Can I see Dawn?” Sunny asked in a small voice. 

Marianne frowned. She hated to see him so scared, but she nodded. “Of course--come in.” 

She stepped aside and held the door open for him allowing Sunny to enter the room. The moment he was in the room, Dawn slammed into him wrapping her arms tight around the much shorter elf. “Oh Sunny!! This isn’t fair!” 

Sunny held onto Dawn. “That’s the thing Dawn,” he said with a heavy sigh. “It is fair.” 

Marianne frowned watching them clinging to each other. “You’re not going,” Marianne said with a firm tone. 

Sunny and Dawn turned to look at her, but it was Sunny who spoke. “What?” 

“You are not going,” Marianne stated holding her hand out. “I’m going.” 

Dawn gasped. “Marianne, you can’t!” 

“Why not?” the older sister asked, putting her hands on her hips. “I'm just as capable as any elf.” 

“You’re my sister! And Santa Claus’s daughter...it’s…” Dawn began, but Marianne cut her sister off. 

“Yes, I know...tradition,” she said with scorn dripping from that word. “But I am not going to let the man my sister loves go out there and risk himself to deliver a naughty list which shouldn’t be going out to this...Krampus person anyway!” Marianne hissed. 

“Marianne, I don’t want you to go either.” Dawn sniffed. “I don’t want to risk either one of you.” 

Sunny nodded his agreement. “I chose the short stick, so I should go.” 

Marianne shook her head. “I’m going. Get the bag off--I’ll be right back.” She marched to the doorway of Dawn’s room and stopped to turn around. “The list has to go right? Well, this will give me a chance to confront Krampus. If Daddy won’t see reason, maybe Krampus will.” 

Dawn cringed. “Marianne, I don’t…” 

Marianne sighed. “Dawn, trust me...I’ll be fine. You and Sunny just hide out here until I get back. Please don’t argue with me.” 

Sunny and Dawn looked ready to do just that, but they both stopped themselves and nodded. Santa’s eldest child was known for her determination. 

* 

Half an hour later Marianne was outside in the snow with Sunny’s pack on her back. 

She was dressed for travel in a pair of thick rabbit fur-covered snow boots, thick purple leggings decorated in lines of white Christmas trees, a thick purple cotton dress of the same color that hung to mid-thigh (also fur-lined) that continued the lines of white Christmas tree decorations under a thick rabbit fur-lined coat, mittens, (every fur used in the clothing of the north pole residence was lined with toy-rabbit fur of the thickest, most heat-trapping variety, a specialty invented by Marianne’s father) of dark evergreen with a matching hat that came down over her ears. 

Next to her was Imp, the youngest of the reindeer still training to take over for her mother Dancer. 

Marianne glanced sideways that the reindeer. “You ready?” 

Imp, whose fur was as white as the snow lifted her head in response. Marianne smiled petting the reindeer’s neck. “Yeah, me too.” 

Marianne turned and easily and gracefully pulled herself up on Imp’s back. “All right, to the winter woods.” 

* 

The winter woods began several miles outside of the North Village and was the domain of Krampus and his ilk, the darker spirits of Christmas. Marianne had grown up hearing about how dangerous the wood was, how dark and filled with spirits, ghosts, monsters, and creatures it was. And located in the very center of the dark, sinister woodland was the home of Krampus. As Marianne and Imp entered the wood, the wind howled through the trees and snow began to fall. The woods were a thick evergreen forest of white and green pines. The snow was deep, coming halfway up Imp’s legs as the reindeer strode between the trees. The deeper they went into the winter woods, the colder it became as well as darker. It had been midafternoon when Marianne entered the wood, but now it was as if the sun couldn't penetrate these woods. Moments after entering, the sunlight vanished to be replaced with deep shadows and darkness that seemed to...breathe was the word Marianne thought of. There was a glow around the wood as if moonlight was breaking through the thick branches of the pines and reflecting off the snow, but Marianne couldn’t see the sky (and she knew it was still daytime.) The trees were too tall and any glimpses she thought she saw were only bits of darkness; no sign of sun, moon, or the stars. It was disconcerting, and if she was honest with herself, she found it a little frightening. 

Marianne shivered and looked around nervously. She thought she saw things moving in the shadows of the trees and snow, misshapen monstrosities, watching her, maybe even hunting her. The shadows darted back and forth, moving just out of the edge of her sight, teasing her. 

Imp huffed and snorted. Marianne could feel the poor reindeer trembling under her. She hated to admit it, but she was trembling too. 

* 

Krampus snarled, standing on the porch of his home, his breath coming out as white steam on the frozen air. “They’re late.” 

He stomped, moving back and forth, his hooved feet causing the ancient wood to moan and creak in protest. His tail whipped back and forth in agitation. His slender, yet muscular form was unaffected by the cold. His clothing consisted only of a fine embroidered leather loincloth. The manacles on his wrists with their few link of chains on them rattled as he snarled again. He whipped his head back and forth for a moment as snow fell into his long, dark hair and over the long horns that grew from either side of the top of his forehead and curved back along his head. He needed the list for tomorrow night. He needed to be able to look over it and know exaclty how many stops he would be making, how many children he would be punishing, bringing back to his lair for the torture their misdeeds had brought them. 

But he couldn’t do any of that with out his fucking list!! 

“I hate elves,” he muttered before turning around and opening the door to his home, slipping back inside only to slam the door with enough force that the entire wooden structure shook all the way down to the thick, giant chicken leg on which it stood. 

* 

Marianne pulled the small curved dagger she had brought with her from its sheath at her waist, holding onto it with one hand, her other hand buried in Imp’s fur, her eyes darting back and forth. Holding the blade made her feel a little better, but the small weapon felt so...inadequate to alleviate the terror that was coursing through her blood. The shadows had increased and thickened. The number of things she saw darting in and out of the corners of her vision made her feel as if an army was following her through the woods. 

She was so focused on the shadows around her that when Imp stepped out into a clearing, she wasn’t prepared for the shift from the woods to the open air. Marianne jumped in surprise, turning around fully to look behind her. The shadows of the forest had grown darker and while she couldn't see anything distinct in the shadows, the feeling of many unseen eyes watching her was enough to make her blood run cold. She quickly turned back around and gasped in shock when she saw the house before her. 

The home itself was nothing unusual. It reminded Marianne a great deal of the houses in the village back home: wooden, with the slanted roof and the white walls of many of the houses back home. The house was even painted with colorful images of Christmas, decorated trees, holly berries, and mistletoe along with colorful stockings and poinsettias. The house was, Marianne thought, rather pretty. 

Marianne stared in wonder, though she couldn't see every image painted on the house since the home stood far above her, balanced on top of a what looked like a giant chicken leg. 

Marianne swallowed, holding on tightly to Imp while staring up at the house. 

She had heard the stories that Krampus lived with his mother, the equally frightening Perchta who punished the idle, or anyone who left their spinning undone or their home a mess. Marianne pressed her lips together, staring up at the house. Her heart was beating hard, the rushing, thumping sound filling her ears. She wanted to turn and run home. She wanted to put as much distance between her and the strangely cheerful looking home--on its frightening chicken leg--as she could. But she had come here not just to deliver the list, but to tell Krampus what she thought of what he did. She didn’t care that he had her father’s approval. She thought Krampus’ Christmas punishments were too much, too cruel. 

And she had come to save Sunny for her sister. Marianne couldn’t go back. 

Marianne slipped her knife back into its sheath before she leaned over and petted Imp’s neck. “All right Imp, I have no idea how to do this, so I’m just going to wing it.” 

Imp made a soft, unsure, and clearly terrified whine. 

Marianne took a breath and sat up straighter. “KRAMPUS!! I HAVE THE LIST!” Marianne’s voice rang out clear in the night wood. She was proud of herself because her voice didn’t shake; she sounded confident. 

Nothing happened. The house flexed it’s clawed toes, but other than that nothing happened. 

Marianne frowned and yelled again. “KRAMPUS!!” 

“YOU DON'T HAVE TO YELL! HEARD YOU THE FIRST TIME!” 

The voice that rang out was clearly masculine with a slight accent that gave his words a purr that was rather nice on the ear she thought, but the clear annoyance in the voice made Marianne frown as she looked up and tried to see who the speaker was. Except she couldn't see anybody, not even a shadow. 

She was ready to yell back and tell whoever had yelled back that she needed to see Krampus when the chicken leg suddenly moved, folding itself down as if the house were nesting for the night. 

Marianne’s eyes widened, but she didn’t move. The tightening of her thighs against Imp’s sides kept her reindeer from turning and rushing off headlong into the woods. 

Once the house was on ground level with her, Marianne could see that the house had steps leading up to a nice little porch that wrapped around the home, decorated in snow, ivy, and bright red Christmas ribbons that complimented the cheerful Christmas imagery that decorated the outside walls of the home. A window faced out from which a welcoming glow emanated. The window was situated next to a richly carved wooden door that bore a Christmas wreath. 

She could see no one on the porch and both the door and window were closed. 

Marianne frowned, staring at the house when she heard that same grumpy voice call out (which, she decided, must be coming from inside the house.) 

“Well, are you coming in or not?” 

Marianne wrinkled her nose in annoyance. “What about my reindeer?” 

The owner of the voice sounded exasperated. “Bring her in too and be quick about it--you’re late.” 

Marianne pursed her lips before she slid off Imp’s back. She walked up beside Imp and rubbed her nose gently. “All right, you ready?” 

Imp gave her a wide eye looked that said she wasn’t, but as Marianne headed onto the porch, Imp followed. 

Marianne hesitated at the door, but the voice coming from inside yelled. “Well come on in, or do you need a written invitation?” 

Marianne narrowed her eyes, fear being chased away by her annoyance. “Rude,” she muttered as she wrapped her hand around the door’s knob and pushed it open. 

* 

The inside of the home was warm, the heat coming from a large fireplace that was decorated with Christmas stockings. The walls were polished wood, as was the floor, which was covered with thick white wool flokati rugs. The furniture was all carved wood with thick, plush pillows for cushioning, and the room smelled of vanilla and other spices mixed with a noticeable underlayer of chocolate. 

Marianne and Imp both looked around in surprise only to be further surprised when a very short (the same size as many of the elves Marianne noted) older woman came into the room, dressed in a long white dress. Her faded red hair flowed down along her shoulders in harsh, frizzy curls while her gently curving horns stuck out from amongst her hair, though their curves stopped short, both horns broken off midway. Her face wasn’t attractive, but the smile was inviting. 

“Hello…” The woman stopped and frowned in confusion. “You’re not an elf. Who are you?” 

Marianne smiled and stood up straight. “My name is Marianne. I’m Santa’s eldest daughter. I’m here to deliver the list to Krampus and to speak with him about the evil that he does.” 

The woman looked a little confused, then a sly look came over her face. “Eldest daughter you say? Are you betrothed? Married? In a serious relationship?” 

Marianne blinked in confusion. That was not what she expected to be asked. “Ah...no?” she answered hesitantly. “Why?” 

The woman clapped her hands. “Wonderful! It’s a pleasure you meet you, Marianne.” 

The older woman rushed over and took Marianne’s hands in hers. Marianne noticed that her hands were warm, slightly rough, but also gentle. “My name if Griselda, but my professional name is Perchta. You, my dear, can call me Griselda. Now, would you like some hot cocoa and cookies? I just pulled a nice batch of sugar cookies from the oven. And I’ll get some carrots for your reindeer.” 

Imp huffed, pleased at the idea of carrots. 

Marianne frowned. This wasn't what she had been expecting. “Ah...I guess so...I heard a man’s voice earlier…” 

“Oh yes, my son Bog. Well, Bog is his given name. And like myself, he has a title; Krampus is his title. Anyway, he’s in the kitchen with some hot cocoa. Since you were running late he was becoming quite grumpy--it throws off his whole timetable.” She sighed, took Marianne’s hand in hers, and led her through the home, Marianne assumed toward the kitchen. “You’re fine by the way, you’re not that late and Bog is just a big old grouch.” The small, horned woman shook her head. “Anway, you can have some nice hot cocoa and some cookies, relax…” 

Marianne was too surprised to stop Griselda from dragging her into the kitchen where the scents of chocolate, vanilla, and sugar were much stronger. 

The kitchen was rustic, with wooden cabinets, grey stone countertops, and a large oven with a red brick wall behind it. One wall was decorated with hanging pans and other kitchen utensils while two racks hung from the ceiling holding pots and pans along with several bundles of drying herbs and a large metal chandelier where candles burned to make the room bright and cheerful. 

But what drew Marianne’s attention was the tall, lean figure sitting at the kitchen table, a cheerful mug painted with candy canes held between his long clawed fingers...Krampus. 

The man was tall, taller than anyone Marianne had ever encountered. Even with his shoulders currently hunched, she could see he was extremely tall. His hair was long, brushing his shoulders, and a deep black; the candlelight made his hair gleem like oil. He was broad shouldered and shirtless, which allowed Marianne to see the play of muscles across his impressive torso and wide shoulders, down along his slender arms. His horns were majestic, curving back from his brow and his tail was long and furred, moving gently behind him. 

He looked up and Marianne was additionally startled by his face. His features were unusual, long and sharp with a long hooked nose and high sharp cheekbones. He had an expressive mouth and the bluest eyes Marianne had ever seen. 

Bog narrowed his gaze and growled. “Who the hell is this?” 

“Now Bog stop it--you’ll scare her! This is Marianne, Santa’s eldest daughter.” Griselda grinned. “Marianne, let me introduce my son Bog, or as he is commonly known, Krampus.” Griselda beamed with pleasure. 

Bog hissed. “That jolly fat man sent his daughter?” Bog sneered and looked her up and down. “You have my list?” 

Marianne narrowed her eyes right back at him. She found that she wasn’t afraid of him at all now that she had seen him, but he certainly was rude. “Yes I have your list and I’m here to talk to you about how you treat children. It needs to stop!” 

Bog blinked in surprise at the venom in her voice. “Pardon?” 

Marianne put her hands on her hips. “You heard me. I think the punishment far outweighs the supposed crimes of these children and I’m here to stop you.” 

Griselda smiled. “Why don’t you have a seat while you two agrue and I’ll get your hot chocolate.” She pulled out the chair that sat across from Bog, gently shoving Marianne into it. 

Marianne slipped the pack off her shoulders that held the naughty list and sat down across from Krampus, folding her arms across her chest. 

Bog glared at her. “You think because you’re related to that jolly ass that you can come here to my home and tell me how to carry out my business? You don’t even know what you’re talking about.” 

Marianne glared at him. “I know enough.” 

Bog laughed, but the sound was dry and harsh. “You don’t know anything.” 

Griselda came over and set a steaming cup of hot chocolate down in front of Marianne with a plate of cookies cut and decorated to look like Christmas trees. 

Bog leaned back in his seat and folded his arms across his chest as well. Marianne frowned slightly. He had a nice chest, the jerk. 

“So what is it that you think I do?” Bog asked with what Marianne knew was a snarky tone. He lifted an eyebrow at her. 

“You kidnap children, beat them with a stick, and…” She frowned. She had heard all sorts of stories of what Krampus did to naughty children, but the clean, rustic, homey kitchen with its smells of chocolate and vanilla didn’t really support the dark image she had. He looked a little scary, true, but not in the way she thought he might. He was more annoying so far than anything else. 

Bog leaned forward and smiled, showing off crooked, fanged teeth. “Well then Miss Claus, if you know so much, why don’t you come with me?” 

Marianne blinked in surprise. “What?” 

Bog grinned wider. “Well Miss Smarty-pants, tag along, You can’t interfere, but you can see what I really do. Or are you scared?” 

Griselda gasped. “Bog that’s a perfect idea!” 

Marianne looked between them, Griselda who looked overjoyed at the idea and Bog who looked smug in a way that made her want to punch him in the face. 

“Fine,” she hissed and reached for her bag, pulling out the list. She threw it across the table at him. Bog caught the scroll easily, serving only to irritate Marianne more. 

He smirked at her and unrolled the list. 

* 

Marianne ended up sitting quietly, drinking her hot cocoa, and eating cookies while Bog went over the list. Griselda came over and took the other seat next to Marianne with a smile. 

“So, Marianne--tell me about yourself. How did you get permission to bring the list? I doubt Mr. Claus would have let his daughter trek out here on her own.” 

Marianne glanced over at Bog who looked to be completely absorbed with looking over the list. 

“What would you like to know?” Marianne asked. 

Bog glanced over, angling the scroll in a way that his face couldn’t be seen completely by Marianne, but he was listening. He didn’t realize that his mother could see what he was doing perfectly. 

“Not much to tell really.” Marianne shrugged. “The elf who was picked to come, Sunny, is my sister’s boyfriend. I couldn’t let him come out here. We’ve all seen what happens to the elves that come out here, we’ve all heard the stories.” 

Bog snorted, but Griselda laughed. “Oh it’s so nice to know they keep our secret, but of course they do. That’s part of the deal you see. An elf delivers the list, Bog and I treat them to cookies, a good hot meal, and the three of us play cards of some other game before they leave. But in order to keep the Krampus reputation, they must swear to tell no one what their stay was really like. We ask them to perpetuate the stories, the myth.” 

Bog grumbled. “And it keeps everyone away, which is just how I like it. People, elves, the lot of them are annoying.” 

Griselda smacked her son on the shoulder, earning her a dirty look from Bog. 

Marianne frowned. “People aren’t annoying...well, not all the time.” 

Bog snorted. “Not in my experience.” 

“Is that why you punish children?” Marianne lifted a brow at him, her expression challenging. 

Bog snorted and bared his fangs at her. “Children aren’t like people. Children are honest, sweet, innocent. All I do is help a child that might be heading down the wrong path to see the error of their ways.” 

“By torture? Fear?” Marianne exclaimed, her voice rising. 

Bog rolled his eyes. “Maybe you should stop talking about things you know nothing about Princess.” 

“Princess! I’m not a princess!” Marianne snarled back at him. 

Bog chuckled, pointing at her reindeer who Marianne only now noticed was chomping down happily out of the bowl full of carrots. Imp looked up giving all of them a surprised reindeer look. 

“You have an animal companion and your father is the head honcho in these parts with a whole race of elves working under him. The world worships him like a king, so...princess.” Bog folded his arms over his chest, looking smug. 

Marianne made a face at him while Griselda looked on with a pleased expression. 

“So, Bog dear. When will you be leaving?” Griselda asked with a smile. 

Bog glanced at his mother and grumbled. “Tomorrow night. I’m sure the princess will want to get back.” 

Marianne narrowed her eyes. “I'm fine...If your mother doesn't mind me staying, I will go with you tomorrow night.” 

Bog glared at her. 

Marianne glared back. 

Griselda smiled as if the meeting could not have gone better. 

* 

Griselda made dinner (refusing Marianne’s help since she was a guest), a meal of schnitzel, potato salad, and some fresh green vegetables. (Marianne had no idea where Griselda had gotten them, but she supposed the older woman was a witch--that was probably the answer.) 

Marianne watched with amusement as the large, hoofed Bog helped his mother in the kitchen. It was odd seeing the terror of Christmas, the boogie man who stole and beat children helping his mother cook dinner. He didn’t look at all scary, just...different. 

They would occasionally speak to one another in a language that Marianne didn’t understand, but she could sense the love and good humor between the two of them. While Griselda was putting on some finishing touches to the meal, Bog walked over to her. He moved with his shoulders slouched forward, probably partly to prevent himself from hitting his head on the ceiling beams, but she thought he carried himself like that as if he were trying to lessen himself, hide himself maybe, which she thought was odd for an individual who went out of his way to appear frightening. 

Bog motioned at Imp. “If you’ll follow me, I’ll show you where to put your pet.” 

Marianne, who had been sitting by the fire with Imp, glanced at the reindeer then back at Bog. “What do you mean?” she asked cautiously. 

Bog sighed. “A stable all right, I’ll take her to the stable.” 

Marianne frowned. “How…” 

Bog sighed with exasperation. “Magic; my mother is a witch. Now will you bring your pet?” 

“Fine.” Marianne stood up and stroked Imp’s neck. “Come on.” 

Imp did not look very sure about any of this, but she was full of pleasant tasting carrots. She liked the old woman, and trusted Marianne. So without protest, Imp followed Marianne. 

Bog moved at a quick pace, his hooves making a sharp sound against the wood floor. Marianne pressed her lips together, her eyes tracing up his back and along his hips. He was wearing only a fine leather loincloth which left his muscular legs and torso exposed. His legs were covered in a fine dark fur, the same midnight black as his hair, both of which looked silky soft to the touch, but his torso was hairless. His skin was a dark grey, unlike his mother who, while pale, looked rather ordinary--except for the horns. 

Bog led her down a hall to a door which he opened and stood aside. Marianne leaned in and was surprised to see a very nice, clean stable with lots of fresh, sweet smelling hay, a blanket, a brush and oats. She stepped in looking around with awe, leading Imp inside. 

The little reindeer kicked her back feet with excitement. 

“This is nice,” Marianne said turning around to look at Bog who stood in the doorway. “Thank you.” 

Bog ducked his head. “It’s fine. Just get her settled. Dinner will be ready any moment now.” 

Bog quickly ducked away. Marianne could hear the sound of his retreating footsteps. 

She frowned after him before she turned back to Imp. “He’s strange.” 

Imp nodded her agreement. 

* 

Dinner was delicious, good enough that Marianne thought her mother might be jealous. She would have to get the recipe from Griselda before she left. Bog was quiet at dinner, letting his mother do all the talking, which she did, asking Marianne questions about her family, her sister, Sunny, whether her sister and this Sunny were getting married, when they were getting married, and a great many questions about Marianne’s own romantic life. Or lack thereof. 

Marianne answered honestly, telling Griselda about her failed dating life, how being the eldest of Santa’s daughters made her difficult to date, especially when she didn’t have the same bright disposition as her younger sister. Marianne kept glancing toward Bog while she spoke with his mother. The man was so quiet, kept his head bowed, letting some of his long hair fall in such a way as to shield his face from her, as if he were hiding. Marianne found that so odd, the scary Krampus hiding himself as if he were ashamed. 

Marianne frowned, watching him as she spoke to his mother and noticed how he would pick up the pitcher of juice from the table and fill his mother’s drink without her saying a word or how he would fill his mother’s plate when she finished her potatoes until Griselda had swatted at his hand to stop him. He even got up at one point returning with a blanket and a richly woven shawl that he draped over his mother’s shoulders, tucking the blanket around her legs. Griselda reached up and gently stroked her son’s cheek. Bog smiled shyly, returning to his seat. 

They were all small gestures of caring, tenderness of a son for his mother. 

These little tender gestures were so at odds with what she knew about the man--or thought she knew, she realized with a frown--that Marianne didn’t know how to react. How could a man who was so kind to his mother be cruel to children? His actions did not add up to what she had believed about Krampus. 

Marianne turned her attention back to his mother’s question. 

“I’ve just never met any man I didn’t want to punch.” Marianne shrugged. She glanced up at Bog who was sitting quietly, his food finished, though he hadn’t moved. 

Griselda chuckled. “Well, clearly you haven’t been meeting the right types of men. Now, my Bog…” 

Bog snarled low. “Mother.” 

Griselda ignored him. “My Bog is a wonderful young man, keeps his horns clean, his hooves sharp, and you should see him with the children!” 

“Mother!” Bog groaned. “That’s enough.” 

“What?” Griselda frowned at her son. “You are…” 

Bog suddenly stood up. “I’ll clean the table.” 

Marianne watched with amusement as he gathered up the dishes, carrying them to the kitchen. 

Griselda sighed. “You’ll have to excuse Bog. He’s…” Griselda struggled for a moment before sighing again. “He’s very hard on himself. It’s difficult growing up the son of a witch, like myself and with the reputation he has…” She reached over and touched Marianne’s arm. “He’s shy.” 

Marianne schooled her features, but it was difficult to hide the shock. Krampus was shy? She glanced over to him where he was dipping a rag into a wooden bucket of water and washing them off. None is this was what she had been expecting. 

Bog finished and announced over his shoulder. “I’m going for a walk before bed mother.” 

Griselda nodded. “Why don’t you take Marianne with you? You could show her some of the pretty spots in the winter woods.” 

Bog grumbled. “I’m sure she’s tired.” 

Marianne smiled. “Actually, a good refreshing walk sounds divine.” 

Bog gave her a narrow-eyed, slightly suspicious look before he sighed with reluctance. “Fine. Come on then.” He stomped off. 

Griselda smiled at Marianne. “Be kind to him.” 

Marianne stood. “Of course.” 

Griselda watched her leave, chasing after Bog and sighed softly, a smile dancing on her lips. “Finally, my Christmas wish has come true.” She pulled her shawl around her shoulders tighter and smiled happily with a contented sigh. 

* 

The house was still nesting on it’s large chicken foot when Bog opened the door, holding it for Marianne. He had wrapped a thick fur-lined cape around his shoulders that Marianne noted was in a shade of dark red with a hood, sharing a few similarities to her father’s coat that he commonly wore. Bog also had a basket on his back that was filled to the brim with golden, sweet smelling hay. 

Marianne stepped out into the night just as large, fat flakes of snow began to fall. 

“So, where are we going?” she asked. 

Bog pulled his hood up as he followed her off the porch after closing the door. “I like to walk over to the lake in the middle of the woods.” He started to walk, not waiting to see if she followed him or not. “There is a Hrimfaxi--that’s actually what the horse is, not its name--that lives there. It had become lost from its herd one winter. I nursed it back to health, but instead of moving on, the damn thing took up residence at the lake. I like to walk out there to make sure the stupid thing is eating and taking care of itself,” Bog muttered. 

Marianne lifted a brow at him, a smile tugging at the corners of her lips, but she didn’t say anything. 

As they headed deeper into the woods, Marianne noticed that the dark shadows and shapes that had been plaguing her ride to Krampus’ home had disappeared. The night was lovely, moonlight shining down, making the snow that was falling softly to the ground twinkle like bits of crystal. Everything seemed lighter, softer, gentle even. Marianne felt silly for how terrified she had felt on her journey through the woods. 

“So…” She decided that walking in silence wasn’t for her and she was curious about Bog. He hadn’t been at all what she had been expecting. “...do you like children?” 

Bog shot her a sideways look from under his hood, but Marianne smiled at him. “An honest answer please, not the answer you and your mother will want me to repeat to keep up your reputation.” 

Bog pressed his lips together for a moment before he answered. “Yes. I like children. They are honest, innocent, and full of…” He smiled, showing a hint of fangs. “...magic.” 

“So, how do you punish them? I mean...I understand that children can be naughty, but I don’t…” Marianne started, but Bog held up a clawed hand. “I talk to them. Usually, when a child is doing something they shouldn’t, it comes from a place of fear or misunderstanding. I don’t scare them into being good. Usually, the person at fault for a bad child is the parent.” Bog shrugged. “Sometimes I have to talk with them too.” He smirked. “I don’t really feel that bad about scaring parents into being more responsible for their child.” 

Marianne blinked, then said softly. “So...you don’t beat them?” 

“I would never beat a child.” Bog sounded offended but smiled. “Sometimes it’s the threat that is more effective than the punishment, but, like I said, usually a child simply needs to have things explained to them so that they understand why such-and-such a thing is bad. Children are very bright and resilient, and they don’t see the world as black and white as adults so often do. I like children better than most adults I know,” Bog muttered as he pulled some branches out of the way, holding them up for Marianne to duck under. 

Marianne smiled. “I agree. I love children. I hope someday to have my own. What about you?” 

Marianne glanced over her shoulder at him as Bog ducked under the branch to join her. 

He sighed. “I would love to have my own, but…” He frowned and shrugged. “I doubt that will ever happen.” 

“Why?” Marianne asked as Bog fell into step beside her. 

Bog gave her a look of disbelief. “Have you seen me or are you blind? I’m hideous. I’m Krampus.” 

Marianne pressed her lips together then said softly. “You’re not hideous.” 

Bog snorted. “You don’t have to be nice to me.” 

Marianne made a face at him. “I’m not.” 

Bog frowned glancing over at her again, once more startling Marianne with how blue his eyes were. “You’re not?” 

“No, I’m not.” She smiled. “You are...quite handsome. You don’t look like anyone I’ve ever known and...I like that.” 

Bog lifted a brow at her in surprise. “Really?” 

Marianne smiled with more confidence because she realized that she did, she liked that he didn’t look like anyone back home. He wasn’t an elf, he wasn’t human. He was unique, and she was finding out he was nice, kind even. 

Bog blushed looking away from her. “It’s ah...just a little farther now.” 

* 

They walked together in silence, both of them walking beside each other. Marianne kept glancing sideways at him to study his profile, the set of his lips, which were she noticed, nice full, even sensual. His nose was long and pointed, but in a way that made her want to run her finger along the bridge and his eyes… 

She frowned, feeling a strange tingling sensation wash over her. 

Bog glanced over at Marianne. She was very pretty, probably the prettiest woman he had ever seen with her large, luminous brown eyes, her rosebud mouth and softly pointed ears, but he found that he liked her. She had come to him ready for a fight, ready to stand up to him. No one had ever done that before...he found it invigorating. 

And she didn’t think he was too hideous to look at… 

* 

The trees began to thin and Bog smiled, motioning in front of them. “We’re here.” 

Marianne’s breath was taken away when she looked out onto the most beautiful lake of clear blue water, nearly the same shade as Bog’s eyes. 

The lake was huge, probably the biggest body of water next to the ocean that Marianne had ever seen; so large she could barely see the far shore. It was surrounded by snow and trimmed by snow-covered pines. The moonlight reflected off the perfect surface, making the lake look still and perfect. 

“Oh Bog, this is lovely!” Marianne turned to look at him. 

Bog smiled at her, a genuine smile that made something in Marianne’s chest hitch. “It is isn’t? I’ve never come here with anyone but my mother before,” he said softly as he led her to the edge of the lake. 

He removed his basket to set it by the water’s edge, then put two of his fingers in his mouth and whistled. 

The sound caused Marianne to jump, but her eyes were drawn to the water. The water, which had been completely still, began to churn a few dozen feet out. She watched in fascination as bubbles rose to the surface. Only moments later, she saw a horse break through the surface. The horse was black like the bottom of a deep lake, but it's tail and mane were as white as the purest snow. The horse neighed, kicking its hooves into the air before it raced across the surface of the water, its mane and tail dripping foam as it raced over to Bog. 

The horse stopped, still standing on the surface of the water as Bog put his arms out and wrapped them around the creature’s neck. The horse looked delighted as it lay its head on Bog’s shoulder and nuzzled him with a snort. 

“All right, you big buffoon,” Bog muttered, stroking the horse’s neck. “All right Schnee, I brought your treat.” He turned and pulled the basket closer to the horse, who whinnied and shoved its face into the basket of hay with an eagerness that made Marianne laugh. 

Bog smiled at her and motioned her closer. “Come close. You can pet him. He loves to be petted and fawned over because he is a big goof and an attention whore.” 

Marianne chuckled as she walked over to Bog who reached out slowly to take her hand. She didn’t pull her hand away, but let him take her hand. Marianne felt a shiver. His hand was warm, calloused, but he was gentle, his claws just barely brushed against her as he laid her hand against Schnee’s neck. The horse looked up once at her; his eyes were dark blue sprinkled with stars, making Marianne think about a clear winter sky, but then the horse plunged his face back into the hay. 

Marianne giggled, brushing her hand along Schnee’s coat with Bog’s hand gently covering hers. Schnee’s coat was cool as her hand moved over him. It was like moving her hand through a fuzzy, yet cold breeze. 

She looked up at Bog. “He’s so cold.” 

Bog nodded. “Yes, he’s cold year round just like the rest of the winter woods. That’s why he likes it so much at the bottom of the lake here because that is where it's the coldest for him. Though he does like to get out and go for a run up in the mountains sometimes.” 

“Do you ever ride him?” she asked while stroking Schnee’s coat. 

Bog shook his head. “No, I’m too heavy.” Bog tilted his horned head and looked at her with a grin pulling at his lips. “But I'm sure he would love to have you ride him sometime.” 

Marianne smiled. “I would love that.” 

Bog smiled shyly at her and Marianne returned his smile. 

They were both quiet, watching Schnee eat until the horse was finished and began to dance around Bog. 

Marianne laughed. “What’s he want?” 

Bog smiled. “To play fetch.” 

He searched around until he found a large stick in the snow that he picked up and held for the horse to see. Schnee pranced around and Bog threw the stick, sending it flying across the surface of the lake. As soon as the stick fell under the surface of the water, Schnee took off after it. Marianne watched as the horse dove under the water, disappearing completely for a moment before breaking back through the surface, the stick in its mouth and looking proud of himself as he raced across the water toward them. 

Bog chuckled. “Show off,” he muttered with affectionate amusement as Schnee pranced over and dropped the stick at Bog’s hooved feet. Marianne watched as the two of them played fetch for a while, Bog’s entire demeanor and face changing as he laughed at the horse’s antics. Her eyes traced over Bog’s long curving horns, followed the sharp lines of his face and along his long, firm jaw. His hair looked so thick and soft, dark like midnight. She wondered if his hair felt as silky as it looked. Her eyes moved down to where she could see a hint of his muscular legs, covered in the same shade of dark fur...I bet he feels soft, she thought. 

Bog spoke, snapping her attention back to his face. “Ready? We can have something hot to drink before bed.” 

Marianne nodded. “That sounds good.” 

* 

The night had grown even chillier on the way back. The snow that had started to fall as fat flakes when they left the house had turned into tiny, little sparks of ice, chilling the air further. Marianne was shivering as they walked through the forest. Bog frowned. He was immune to the cold, needing only the cloak, but Marianne was clearly chilled. 

“Would you like my cloak?” He reached up and started to remove it, but Marianne shook her head. 

“No, no. I'll be fine.” 

Bog frowned, clearly not convinced. “Here, stop being so stubborn…” He reached over and scooped her up easily as if she weighed no more than a feather. Bog held her close, his arms wrapped around her. His body was warm as he held her with one arm, pulling his cloak around her. 

“Hold the sides,” he said. 

Marianne did as she was told, looking up at Bog as he quickened his pace, causing Marianne to realize that he had slowed his gait to suit her speed when they were walking. She smiled snuggling in close under his cloak, her cheek against the bare skin of his shoulder and chest. He smelled like pine needles, vanilla, cloves, and strangely, after a few moments of pondering, a hint of warm cocoa. 

She smiled, snuggling closer, enjoying the scent of him. 

When they arrived back at Bog’s home, he didn’t set her on her feet. Instead, he opened the door stepping inside and carried her through the quiet house, his mother clearly having turned in. 

He brought her to the main room where a fire was still going and sat her down on the cushioned seat. “There, I’ll make us some tea and then I can show you to your room.” 

Marianne smiled up at him. “Thank you Bog.” 

He blushed and smiled shyly at her again making Marianne feel funny, a strange little leap in her heart. Marianne turned to watch him go into the kitchen, watching as he removed his cloak, revealing his slender muscled torso again. She bit her bottom lip before sucking her lip into her mouth watching him walk away. 

She removed her own coat and waited only a minute of two for Bog to return with two cups of steaming tea, both cups smelling of honey. 

He smiled as he handed a cup to her. “This will help you sleep. If you follow me, I can lead you to your room.” 

Marianne nodded and stood up, following Bog down the hall of the house. He stopped at an ornate door carved with turtle doves and ribbons. He held the door open and Marianne could see the room contained a nice fireplace, a bed piled high with thick, colorful blankets, and large fluffy looking pillows. 

Bog smiled at her. “Sleep well, Marianne.” 

Marianne turned to look at him and then quickly stood on her toes and planted a kiss on Bog’s cheek. “Good night Bog.” 

Bog’s eyes widened in surprise. He reached up to place the tips of his clawed fingers against the spot she had kissed. He didn’t move for a beat as if he were struggling to find his breath. 

Bog swallowed and smile shyly. “Good night,” he said before he slipped out, closing the door behind him. 

Marianne smiled, blushing herself, her lips tingling from touching his cheek. His skin had been warm and soft, the smell of hot cocoa and cloves lingered in her nostrils as she turned to get ready for bed.


	2. A Krampus Night

The delicious scent of fresh-baked pumpernickel woke Marianne. She rolled over and sat up with a couple of heavy blinks. Her short brown hair stuck up around her head, making her look like an annoyed pixie. The scent of the bread made her stomach growl audibly. She got up and rummaged through her pack that she had brought with the list and withdrew a fresh outfit. She was pleased to find a large basin with fresh warm water, a fluffy washcloth, and soap (she didn’t know if Griselda had brought it in or if, being a witch and all, she had simply magicked the items into her room, but Marianne didn’t mind either way.) The soap smelled of lavender and lilacs and the washcloth smelled as if it had just been dried on the line on a beautiful summer day. 

Marianne grinned and quickly washed and dressed, pulling on a pair of merrily printed dark green leggings with images of white reindeer across them, as well as a white fur-trimmed dress of dark purple. She slipped on her boots and was using her fingers to try to control her hair when she saw a silver hairbrush sitting on the table next to the washbasin. She was sure that the brush hadn’t been there a moment before… 

Marianne picked up the brush and inspected it. It was a silver brush with fine horsehair. She frowned, turning it around in her hand. The back of the silver brush showed a Christmas scene of snow fairies dancing around a Christmas tree, but other than that, it seemed like a regular hairbrush. Marianne shrugged with a smile and proceeded to try to tame her wild hair. 

* 

When she came out of her room she could hear Griselda and Bog singing. She was so surprised she stopped in her tracks to listen to the mother and son, their voices quite pleasant on her ear. 

“City sidewalks, busy sidewalks 

Dressed in holiday style 

In the air there's a feeling of Christmas 

Children laughing, people passing 

Meeting smile after smile 

And on every street corner you hear 

Silver bells, (silver bells) silver bells (silver bells) 

It's Christmas time in the city 

Ring-a-ling, (ring-a-ling)...” 

* 

She followed the sounds of their singing to the kitchen where she saw Bog--keeping himself slumped over and clearly trying to minimize his size--as he set the table while his mother was at her kitchen counter cutting a large liverwurst into slices. The table was set with a bowl of cherry tomatoes, glass jars of strawberry-mint and quince jam, boiled eggs, and a plate that held slices of bright orange cheese. Marianne also smelled the scent of rich dark coffee. 

Bog had just set the plates and silverware down when he looked up and noticed her; his blue eyes widened for a moment before a shy smile tugged at his lips. 

“Good morning. I hope you slept well,” he said softly. 

Griselda turned around, bringing the cutting board with the sliced liverwurst to the table. “Good morning Marianne--please have a seat. Since you are going with Bog on his rounds today, you should eat well.” 

Marianne smiled and walked over to the table whereupon Bog pulled a chair out for her. She looked up at him, her eyes meeting his startling blue ones. “Thank you.” 

Bog ducked his head but said nothing. 

Marianne took her seat while Bog walked over to pick up the large pewter coffee pot. He stepped next to Marianne and lifted his brow in question. Marianne nodded and Bog filled her cup with rich, dark coffee. 

“So, you start early?” she asked, looking between Bog and his mother. 

Griselda nodded. “Yes, Bog gets an earlier start than your father does on his night since Bog has to take a little more time. He isn’t just dropping off gifts; sometimes he has to stop to dish out punishments.” Griselda laughed, sounding very much like the witch she was. 

Bog wrinkled his nose at his mother in annoyance before addressing Marianne. “Since I have to stop a few times to either lecture naughty children or their parents, it takes longer for me to get around.” He shrugged. “And I don’t travel with a sleigh of eight reindeer.” 

“How do you get around?” Marianne asked while Griselda began to fill her plate. Marianne held her hand up to stop the witch once the plate had a little bit of everything, but Griselda ignored her and filled Mairanne’s plate until there was nothing of the plate visible underneath all the food. 

Bog came over and took his seat. “I have a mount.” 

“A mount? Schnee?” Marianne asked and picked up her fork. 

Bog shook his head. “No, his name is Duraþrór and he’s a black stag.” 

Griselda began to slice the dark pumpernickel into thick slices, handing several slices to Marianne, then Bog. “He also has a trio of helpers.” 

Marianne, who had spread butter and strawberry-mint jam onto her bread and had just taken a large bite, looked over at Bog. 

Bog shrugged. “They’re a trio of goblins: Stuff, Thang and Brutus. They help with carrying the treats for the children.” 

Marianne chewed and swallowed taking a large sip of coffee to help before she asked. “You mentioned treats before. I didn’t know you left gifts too.” 

Bog shrugged. “Why not? Why should your father be the only one?” He frowned picking up a cherry tomato with his claws while he spoke. “Children deserve all the gifts they receive.” He smiled. 

“They are usually nothing big since they have to fit in a shoe, but I usually leave small candies, nuts, fruits or cookies that my mother makes.” He popped the tomato delicately into his mouth. 

Griselda smiled and nodded around a bite of boiled egg. “This year I’ve made vanillekipferl.” 

Bog glanced shyly at Marianne. “Would you like to try one?” 

Marianne smiled and nodded. “Yes.” 

Bog stood and Marianne stared at him. He was so big, she just couldn’t get over just how tall he was with lean muscles and his dark hair, which looked so soft and shiny in the grey morning light that streamed through the kitchen window. The urge to run her fingers through his hair, to feel the silky tresses slide between her fingers was strong. She watched as Bog walked over to a large basket she had missed, sitting on a table against the wall. He unfolded the cloth and Marianne instantly smelled the strong vanilla and almond fragrances fill the air. Bog picked up something and returned to set a crescent-shaped cookie covered in powdered sugar in front of her. 

“They’re very good,” he assured her with a smile. “My mother is the best baker around.” 

Marianne picked up the cookie and took a bite. The cookie melted in her mouth, the flavors of vanilla sugar and almond a delight. 

“Oh! These are amazing!” Marianne said, finishing off her cookie. 

Griselda grinned. “Thank you dear.” 

Bog smiled at Marianne. “Told you--my mother is the best baker around.” 

* 

They ate breakfast, and after helping his mother clean up (both of them insisting that Marianne was a guest and should not help), Bog took her to see Imp. “I thought you might want to see her and brush her down before we left,” Bog said as he led her once more through the house to the stable. 

“Thank you. I do actually.” Marianne replied as Bog opened the door to the stable. 

“I came and checked on her myself last night,” Bog murmured. 

Marianne turned just after stepping through the doorway. “You did?” 

Bog nodded. “Yes, I just wanted to make sure she was warm and comfortable.” 

“Thank you Bog,” Marianne said softly. Bog gave her a small, fanged smile and shrugged. 

Marianne looked around for Imp and saw her reindeer at the far end of the stable with another animal. She gasped in shock when she saw the creature, possibly the largest deer Marianne had ever seen. The animal was so big she wasn’t sure it qualified as a deer at all. 

Unlike Imp, whose coat was pure white, this creature was draped in black so dark that it seemed to be made of shadows. The creature was shaped like a large buck, with the biggest set of antlers that Marianne had ever seen; she made a quick count of the buck’s antlers and determined it had at least a hundred points. 

Bog grinned when he saw Marianne staring at the creature that pranced around with Imp, the two of them occasionally, playfully butting heads. 

“That’s my mount, Duraþrór,” Bog said. 

The animal heard its name and turned its head toward Bog before rushing over to him, jumping and bouncing like a baby goat until it stopped in front of Bog, clicking its hooves on the ground excitedly. 

Imp followed, rushing over to Marianne where she bumped her head affectionately against Marianne’s shoulder. 

Bog chuckled softly reaching out to rub Duraþrór’s thick neck. “He only comes in from the wild on the nights I make my rounds,” Bog explained. “Otherwise he stays out in the wilds with his brothers.” 

This close, Marianne could see the stag’s coat was just as dark as she thought, like midnight given form. Its eyes were solid white, and for just a moment, Marianne was positive she saw the skeleton of the creature underneath its fur. 

Bog affectionately rubbed the animal’s neck while the creature laid his massive head against Bog’s shoulder. 

Bog chuckled, his voice pitched a little higher like he was talking to something cute and cuddly. “There, there you silly old thing.” Bog rubbed his claws in a playful scratch along the creature’s throat while it made strange snuffing noises that were clearly noises of pleasure. 

“All right, ya big oaf. I see you and Imp are friends now.” Bog leaned back to look the buck in the eyes smiling. The buck nuzzled its snout against Bog’s face in the sweetest show of affection causing Marianne to smile. It didn’t matter how frightening the creature was, it was clearly loved by Bog and loved Bog in return. Marianne smiled; plus Imp liked Duraþrór. Marianne was beginning to believe that outside appearances were clearly no indication of what a person, or creature, was like on the inside. 

Bog turned Duraþrór’s attention to Marianne. “Duraþrór this is Marianne, Marianne Duraþrór.” 

Marianne smiled. “Hello Duraþrór.” 

The stag looked Marianne over before it put its nose out to her. Marianne glanced at Bog who gave her an encouraging nod before she put her hand out on the dark creature’s nose. His nose was warm and soft, velvety soft. Duraþrór bumped her playfully. 

Bog chuckled. “He likes you. So, I hate to break you…” Bog addressed the stag. “...and Imp up, but we have work to do Duraþrór.” 

The stag snorted then struck the ground with its hoof as if to say it was ready and able. 

Bog laughed, petting the stag’s side. “Well, I’ll go see if the others have arrived yet. You and Imp play a bit longer.” 

With that, the two animals ran off to chase each other through the stable. 

Marianne giggled watching them. “He seems nice.” 

Bog chuckled. “He is. Now, I need to go and see if the others have arrived yet and then get everything together. Then we can leave.” 

As they turned to leave the stables Marianne asked. “Is there anything I can do to help you?” 

Bog shook his head. “No, I’ve been doing this for nearly as long as your father and before me it was my father who played the part of Krampus. I’ve got it down to a science.” He touched the side of his long pointed nose playfully. Marianne laughed as they walked together toward the front of the house. 

* 

Bog held the front door open for Marianne when they arrived at the door (neither one of them noticed Griselda when she stuck her head out from the kitchen, grinning from ear to ear like a Cheshire cat when she saw the way they walked side by side.) Marianne stepped outside onto the front porch to see that it had snowed heavily during the night. The snow was thick and white, having covered the woods in a coat of Christmas cheer. 

Once they stepped out onto the porch, Bog looked around with a frown and gripped the railing of the porch and muttered. “Where are they…?” 

Marianne came to stand beside him, her hands on the railing next to his, almost touching him, and looking out into the wood as well. “Who are we looking for again?” 

“My helpers. The humans called them demons, as they do me, though they’re not. They’re just goblins,” Bog said as he looked down at Marianne standing beside him. 

Marianne lifted a brow in surprise. “Goblins?” 

Bog stared at her for a few seconds, caught up in how pretty she was before he blushed and turned away, answering softly. “Ah, yes. I ran into them one Christmas Eve, years and years ago now. They were lost, alone, starving. Some elves had chased them off when they went to seek help from them…” 

Bog glanced at her and saw Marianne go pale. He reached out without thinking and lightly caressed her hand where she held onto the porch rail. “It was long before your time Marianne.” She looked up at him again, not pulling her hand away. For a moment Bog felt caught, didn’t know what to do. She hadn’t yanked her hand away; she was letting him touch her!! 

Bog slowly, awkwardly, brought his hand up to rub the back of his neck, his pointed ears twisted, their tips red as he continued. “...so I brought them home. My mother fed them, we warmed them by our fires, gave them winter cloaks, then I helped to build them a home…” He shrugged. “They stuck around ever since. Now there’s a little goblin village out in the woods a small distance away.” He pointed west. 

Marianne smiled. Bog, she was coming to realize, was kind, generous, loved his mother, cared for animals. None of these things made sense to her with what she had been taught, the stories, legends, Krampus. She wondered how she, a daughter of Santa Claus, didn’t know all this before. Bog was nothing like she had been led to believe and the longer she stayed here the more she liked him. 

Marianne reached out and laid her hand lightly on Bog’s arm. “That was kind of you.” 

Bog blushed and ducked his head a little. “No, not really. They make my yearly trips easier is all.” He tried to sound gruff about it, but he failed. 

Marianne stepped closer, her hand sliding up his arm. Bog’s eyes widened as he gazed at her, startled by her closeness while at the same time thrilled. She turned him to face her, placing her other hand on Bog’s bare chest. Bog suddenly couldn’t breathe. 

Marianne smiled. His skin was warm, the pleasant warmth that reminded her of lying in front of the fire. She could feel his heartbeat under her fingertips and the warm delicious smell of him washed over her as she stepped closer to him. 

Bog hesitantly reached for her, his clawed hands hovering over her hips when a small, high pitched voice rang out across the cold winter wood. 

“BOG!! We’re here!! Stuff made some of her famous bratapfel!!” 

Bog jumped away from Marianne, hitting his horns on the ceiling of the porch and his back against the door. He yelped when one of his hooved feet came down on his own tail. 

Bog snarled a curse under his breath and shook his head at himself. 

Marianne hit the rail, stumbling back, startled by both the voice and Bog’s sudden leap back, but she turned to see three goblins coming toward them in the snow, all wearing capes. 

One was small, smaller than most elves with webbed ears, large bulbous eyes, and a smiling mouth filled with crooked teeth. His mottled green skin was covered in a red and white trimmed cloak, not too dissimilar from Bog’s own cloak. Next to him and a good head taller (though still short) was another goblin with small webbed ears, tiny eyes that were nearly lost in a large face with a heavy chin. This goblin was a little lighter in color than the small one and reminded Marianne of rocks worn smooth by a river. This one was carrying what must be the bratapfel in a large covered ceramic dish; that one wore a similar cloak to the smallest goblin. 

Lastly came a very large goblin that was all muscles and dressed in their own red and white cloak that was clearly too short for its massive size. The hood that he had over his head looked adorably ridiculous since it barely hung on his head, mostly held in place Marianne suspected by his ears, but paired with the goblin’s wide smile, Marianne found him precious, and while the middle one made Marianne think of large round rocks, this one made Marianne think of boulders. 

They all had a slightly amphibian look about them, but they were also all smiling, their eyes bright, not at all what she was expecting because these goblins didn’t look the least bit frightening or blood-thirsty. They looked sweet, happy, and joyous. 

The small one yelled and waved. “Bog!! Bog we’re here!!” 

Bog took a deep steadying breath. “Hello Thang, Stuff, Brutus.” 

The three goblins hurried over, all of them giving Marianne curious looks as the middle one-handed the ceramic dish to Bog, who carefully accepted it. 

“I made it just like you like it,” the middle goblin said in a deep masculine voice, which surprised Marianne since the little one had referred to this one as a ‘she.’ 

Bog smiled holding the dish up to his nose and taking a deep breath. Marianne could smell the baked apple and cinnamon from where she stood. 

“It smells delicious Stuff, thank you,” Bog said making the goblin named Stuff blush. 

Bog held the dish in one hand, while with his other he introduced the goblins. “Everyone, this is Marianne. She’s Santa’s eldest daughter and she will be riding with us tonight. Marianne, these are my helpers, Thang…” 

The smallest goblin gave Marianne a wide happy grin and waved at her. “Stuff…” Bog motioned toward the middle one who had brought the apple dish. Stuff smiled at her and curtsied. “And lastly, Brutus.” Bog motioned at the largest goblin ,who grinned at her and waved with his three-fingered hand. 

Thang looked between Bog and Marianne. “Oh, I didn’t know you had a girlfriend! She’s pretty!” 

Bog went pale, looked over at Marianne, his mouth moving, but nothing came out. 

Marianne giggled, her cheeks turning red. 

Stuff frowned and gave Thang a light smack on the shoulder. “Thang stop that--you’re embarrassing them.” 

Brutus grinned. “About time, yer mother has been really upset about you not having a girlfriend.” 

Bog’s head snapped around to stare at Brutus. “What?” 

Brutus nodded sagely. “Yep. She said so last time we had tea together.” 

Bog muttered to himself a moment, then asked, “You have tea with my mother?” 

Marianne was doing her best not to giggle, but it was a losing battle. 

Stuff nodded too. “Yep, she says she doesn’t want you to die alone and that you would be less grumpy if you had a wife.” 

Thang piped up. “I like her! She’s pretty and dresses really well. So when’s the wedding?” 

Bog gasped then growled. “That’s enough!” 

The goblins all snapped to attention. 

Bog sighed. “Let’s just get ready to go, shall we?” Bog groaned and muttered to Marianne. “Sorry about that.” 

Marianne smiled at him reaching out to touch his arm again. “You have nothing to be sorry about Bog.” 

Bog smiled at her before he reached for the door. He held it open and Marianne stepped inside, followed by the goblins. 

* 

Marianne sat at the kitchen table sipping on a mug of warm tea and bit into a slice of bratapfel while Bog donned his own red and white cloak and the goblins made their preparations to leave. Bog pulled out a large woven basket with Thang, filled with birch rods while Stuff and Griselda made sure the cookies were all delicately wrapped in red paper with cheerful red ribbons and sprigs of holly. 

Brutus sat at the table with Marianne staying out of the way. 

Brutus grinned at her. “I’m the muscle.” 

Marianne lifted a brow. “Does Bog need muscle?” 

Brutus nodded. “Sometimes. Last year we ran into a straggele who was being a pest, attacking the naughty and good children alike. It was a little touchy there, but Bog and me taught it a lesson. I’m also in charge of making sure to double-check the list while we are out.” 

Marianne shuddered a little at the mention of a straggele. She had heard stories about them, but unlike Bog and the goblins, those stories must be true. 

After a few more hours of preparation (Thang and Stuff had to run out to gather more birch rods and Griselda had to go in search of more ribbon.) Bog finally announced while sliding the basket onto his back. “All right--we’re ready.” 

He smiled at Marianne and held out his clawed hand to her. He blushed, the red spreading to the points of his ears that stuck out through his thick black hair. “Are you ready to see what I do?” 

Marianne took his hand and stood up, stepping close to him. “I am.” 

Bog smiled, still holding her hand. “Then let’s be off.” 

* 

They all stepped outside and Marianne saw that evening had settled. Out front, Duraþrór stood waiting, reins around his head and a strap around his neck, decorated with tiny silver bells which chimed magically when he moved his head. Marianne noticed he bore no saddle. The trio of goblins rushed out laughing and talking, heading over to greet Duraþrór who bowed his head to receive the goblins’ affectionate hugs. 

Bog walked over to the large stag, smiling as he rubbed his claws lightly along the large, dark creature’s neck. Duraþrór gave Bog an affection bump with his head, causing Bog to have to lean back a little or be speared by one of the stag’s antlers. 

Bog laughed giving the stag a kiss on the nose as he lifted Duraþrór head, rubbing his long, sharp nose against the stag’s nose. “All right ye big dolt. Ready for tonight?” 

The staff huffed and bobbed his head, causing Bog to chuckle before he walked around to the side and easily, gracefully, leaped onto the creature’s back. 

Bog turned and held his hand out to Marianne, his blue eyes bright. “Ready?” 

Marianne found herself breathless for a moment. Bog’s horns gleamed in the grey light, looking elegant and beautiful. His dark hair shone like liquid satin and his smile transformed his face into something downright handsome. She now realized what the term “diabolically handsome” meant. 

She felt her heart do a little skip as she beamed at him, reaching out to take his hand. His grip was warm and firm, yet gentle as she let Bog tug her closer before reaching down with both hands to grasp her waist and easily lift her up as if she weighed nothing at all. 

Bog placed her on the stag’s back in front of him. Bog’s arms reached out on either side of her as he took up the reins. He leaned forward, his voice by her ear, close enough that she could swear she felt the warm brush of his lips against her ear. With his body surrounding her, she was enveloped in the heat and smell of him. Never in her life had she been so excited by someone as Bog was currently doing to her right now. She found it to be erotic and pleasantly surprising--just like everything on this trip had been so far. 

Bog murmured. “Just hold onto the reins with the bells, but you don’t have to worry about anything, I won’t let you fall off and Duraþrór is very good at this.” 

Marianne turned her head slightly, looking up to catch Bog’s eyes as he looked sideways at her. She was startled by the way his hair had fallen to the side, a dark curtain that brushed her arm, and his eyes were the brightest blue; they seemed to glow brighter now. She was so proud of herself that her voice didn’t tremble with desire when she whispered. 

“I trust you Bog.” 

Bog smiled, his cheeks and ears reddening again as they continued to stare at each other. Bog’s arms closed tighter around her, gently, as if he were trying to pull her back in a hug, but he abruptly sat up straight and gently nudged Duraþrór with his hooves. The stag leapt forward as if shot from a cannon and began to run through the snow and woods. Marianne gasped in surprise, looking to the sides to see Thang and the others were keeping pace, running alongside the stag. 

The moment they entered the winter wood, she could feel the build-up of the wind around them. It had started out slow, but as Duraþrór ran, the wind began to increase and, after a few seconds, Marianne realized they were being lifted up. 

Marianne looked down as a shimmer appeared in the air and she could feel the presence of magic like a light a tingle on her skin. If she had to guess, she would say it was a netherwind. She wasn’t sure how it worked, but at the moment she didn’t care because suddenly Duraþrór broke through the top of the trees and they were riding into the cold winter night sky, full of stars. 

Marianne gasped at the beauty. The night sky was filled with twinkling diamonds and glittering red and green jewels. She felt the gentle warmth of Bog’s body around her, his arms around her, his hands on the reins in front of her, protecting her while Duraþrór dashed through the night sky. Marianne saw shooting stars streak across the sky and she could swear she saw some of the stars dance in a slow, complicated circle. She had ridden in the sleigh with her father only a handful of times over the years, but never at night, never into the sky, and never at Christmas time. She could feel the magic in the air as Bog steered Duraþrór toward the north star. 

“This is beautiful Bog!” Marianne gasped, turning to look up at him. 

Bog held the reins loosely, trusting Duraþrór to know the way while he smiled at Marianne. “Yes, it’s quiet up here. I love the stars, the feeling…” 

Marianne rested back against his chest, gazing at the stars as they rode through the night. Bog looked down at her, a smile tugging at his lips. 

* 

At the first houses on their list, they found children’s shoes waiting for them on the front porches and front steps of the houses, little shoes waiting for Bog’s verdict on their behavior. Bog simply directed Thang and Stuff to fill the waiting shoes with the cookies his mother had made. Sometimes they would add a birch rod. (Bog grinned at this, telling Marianne that sometimes a warning along with the threat was a reminder to a child that had been naughty that he, like Santa, was watching, but she could tell he did it with good humor.) Still, after all this time, Bog had yet to truly beat or punish anyone. 

Marianne watched while the goblins eagerly filled shoes and stockings, laughing quietly, joking, and clearly enjoying themselves while occasionally stopping to drink the beer that was left out for Bog. Marianne asked Bog why he never drank the beer himself, but he only shrugged and murmured. “I would prefer tea, or milk and cookies, but no one seems to think a demon would like those things.” He grinned and said. “But the goblins have a great deal of fun with it.” 

Marianne laughed softly; she couldn’t argue with that. 

Later they stopped at a darkened house where no shoes lay waiting for Bog and his goblins. So instead of landing in the street, or on the porch or front step, Duraþrór hooves landed lightly on the roof with barely a sound. Marianne could tell that Bog was upset. He was frowning and had gone quiet. Even the goblins had lost their merriment when they stopped on the roof of this particular house. 

“Bog, is something wrong?” Marianne asked. 

Bog nodded, pulling the hood of his cloak up over his head, his horns curling back along the sides of the red and white hood. “The child that lives here has had a hard time this last year and hasn’t been behaving well.” 

Marianne felt her heart drop to her feet. Here it was, what she had been dreading… 

“Bog, you’re not…” she began, but Bog’s arms around her tightened, not painfully, just enough to quiet her protesting. “Just follow me and please do not intervene.” 

Bog slid off Duraþrór’s back, adjusted the basket on his back before he reached over and took Marianne by the waist. She felt a thrill at the feel of his hands on her waist. He lifted her easily off the stag as if she weighed no more than a snowflake and gently set her on her feet. The goblins stayed where they were as Bog led her over to the brick chimney. 

He glanced at her once more, his features in the hood of his cloak seemed lost in shadows. Only his blue eyes remained vivid and visible. 

“Promise me you’ll say and do nothing, just observe.” Bog’s voice was calm but firm. 

Marianne nodded. 

Bog reached out and took her hand, placing his other hand on the edge of the chimney. She felt a tickle, and suddenly her vision was a blur only to clear again a heartbeat later. She saw they now stood in front of a low burning fire in a simple wood-paneled living room with simple furniture and a small, sad little Christmas tree. 

Bog motioned her to follow him as he moved through the house, heading toward the stairs. 

Together they crept up the stairs and down a hall lit by a dim little night light in a socket at the far end. Bog stopped at a door that was cracked open and pushed it the rest of the way open to look inside. In the room, faintly illuminated by another night light was a small bed in which lay a dark-haired little boy sleeping. He was no more than seven with chubby cheeks, but there was a sadness in him, Marianne could feel it. This little boy didn’t have the innocent joy of most children; he was sad and hurt. 

Marianne watched as Bog walked silently into the boy’s room. Marianne’s heart hammered. She didn’t want to see this, she didn’t want to see her love for Bog that had been growing shattered by the reality of what he did, but then, Bog pulled out several packages of his mother’s bright wrapped cookies and laid the packages in the boy’s carelessly tossed tennis shoes that lay at the foot of the bed. 

Bog stopped to gaze at the little boy before bending over and placing a gentle kiss on the sleeping child’s temple and whispered. “I promise, things will be better Jacob. Your Christmas wish has been answered.” 

Bog stood up with a glance at Marianne before he left the room and turned to head further down the hall. Marianne stared after him, her heart pounding, tears in her eyes. That was simply the sweetest gesture, not what she had been expecting. She turned and quickly followed Bog to the next room. 

He opened the door and inside was a man lit by the moonlight streaming through the window, who looked a great deal like the little boy. He slept alone; there was no mother and the man’s sleeping features were etched with pain. 

Bog motioned for Marianne to close the door after they had both crept quietly into the room. 

Marianne waited by the door as Bog approached the father. She thought he might pull one of the birch switches out of his basket, but he didn’t. Instead, he simply shook the man’s shoulder. 

“Robert, wake up--we need to talk.” Bog growled low and menacingly. 

The man named Robert opened his eyes groggily and turned to look at Bog. Marianne saw the man open his mouth to scream, but Bog put a long, clawed finger to the man’s lips silencing him. Robert’s expression didn’t change, but the man was smart enough not to scream when a Christmas demon told him not to. 

Bog smiled at the man. The smile wasn’t pleasant, but rather frightening as Krampus showed off all his fangs. “I’m here to talk to you about Jacob. You will listen. You will do as I say or I will come back here and punish you. Do you understand?” 

Robert, his eyes so wide that they only looked white in the darkness of the room, nodded and Marianne heard the man whisper. “Yes, Krampus.” 

Bog smiled again and there was nothing pleasant about the expression on his face. “Good, now listen to Robert. I know you have been hurting since your wife Jill’s death, but you are hurting your little boy. You’re anger is hurting your son.” Bog’s voice was actually gentle. “Jacob is hurting too. He needs his father, you need each other. Taking out your pain and anger on him at your shared lost will only alienate him and you will lose the only thing you have left of Jill.” Bog paused, his glowing blue eyes narrowed. “You will lose your son. Do you want that?” 

Tears were running down Robert’s cheeks. “No I don’t.” 

Bog smiled gently. “Then be his father again. Be the man you were, the man Jill married. Help each other. Will you do that?” 

Robert nodded eagerly. 

Bog smiled. “Good. If I’m forced to come back to speak to you Robert, it will not be a pleasant conversation.” 

Robert nodded again, tears streaming down his cheeks as he whispered. “Thank you. I love my boy.” 

Bog’s smile was much softer. “I know you do. Just heed my words and be the man your child needs you to be.” 

Bog stood and motioned for Marianne to follow him, both of them leaving the room. 

* 

Marianne didn’t say another word until they were once more on Duraþrór’s back. “That was…” She frowned, at a loss for words. “...not what I was expecting.” 

Bog shrugged. “He lost his wife and he’s sad and scared. He didn’t mean to frighten his son or lash out at him. Robert loves Jacob, but his actions were causing Jacob to act out, to do naughty things. The little boy isn’t a bad kid, he just needs his father and Robert just needed to be reminded of that.” 

Marianne smiled and leaned back against Bog. “So--do you ever beat anyone like the stories say?” 

Bog looked down at her a little surprised, but he smiled tightening his arms around her. “In the past there have been times where I did, but…” He shrugged and Marianne could feel the movement against her back. “...I find a good scare, a lecture and to be reminded about what’s important usually does the trick.” 

Marianne leaned back against his warm chest smiling. “You’re a good man,” she said. 

Bog’s voice rumbled in his chest. “I don’t know about that…” 

Marianne laid a hand on his forearm. “You are.” 

Bog blushed and turned his focus on leading Duraþrór as their little group headed off into the cold night to deliver more cookies and lectures. 

* 

When they were finished for the night, arriving back at Bog’s home, the goblins, all filled with laughter and chatter, hurried inside the house, taking Bog’s basket with them, while Bog removed his cloak, once more wearing only his loincloth. He led Duraþrór inside after them, heading toward the stables. Marianne came with him, both to check on Imp and to spend more time with Bog. 

The entire house smelled delicious. Griselda has been busy in the kitchen since they had left for the night. 

“So what happens now?” Santa’s eldest daughter asked as they entered the stable and she slipped off her coat to hang it on a peg next to where Bog hung his cloak. 

Imp came bouncing across the floor to her, giving her a nuzzle before turning her full reindeer attention on Duraþrór. Marianne was beginning to think her reindeer might be in love with the dark stag who greeted her in return with enthusiasm. Marianne also thought she might completely understand Imp’s fascination as she found herself feeling the same way about Duraþrór’s rider. 

Bog smiled, watching the two animals dance happily around each other while he spoke and filled a trough with grain. “My mother has a feast waiting for us, then we sit around the fireplace with hot chocolate, Christmas cookies, and tell ghost stories.” 

“Ghost stories?” Marianne asked with a slightly confused expression. 

Bog chuckled. “Not always, but usually yes.” 

He looked down, rubbing his hoof against the floor shyly before he asked. “Would you like to stay a little longer? You could stay for another night if you want. It wouldn’t be any trouble.” 

Marianne’s cheeks were red, but she murmured softly as she gazed into his blue eyes. “I would like that very much.” 

Bog smiled, then shyly reached out, holding his hand out for her to take. Marianne gazed at his outstretched hand and his long, clawed fingers which no longer looked frightening, but kind and elegant, then up to his enchanting blue eyes again before she put her hand in the palm of his hand. 

Bog’s smile was radiant, his tail whipping slowly back and forth in pleasure as he wrapped his fingers around her hand and led her out of the stable. 

* 

Griselda, dressed in a dark green evergreen dress that brushed the floor and a pure white apron, had dinner waiting for them when they walked into the kitchen. The goblins were already sitting around the table waiting while eagerly drinking beer, mulled wine, or tea, chatting happily among themselves. The food smelled divine. Griselda had cooked a roast with apple and sausage stuffing, red cabbage, and potato dumplings, and large fluffy rolls. 

Everyone ate and talked about the night’s adventures, but Griselda was interested in Marianne’s take on the events of the night. It had not gone unnoticed by the witch that Santa’s daughter was sitting closer to her son, or the fact that both of them kept gazing at each other like lovesick youths, or that they both took every opportunity to touch one another, whether it was a brush of hands, or a bumping of shoulders. 

“So, Marianne. Did you enjoy your Krampus night?” Griselda asked as she spooned some boiled potatoes onto Marianne’s plate. 

“I had a wonderful time,” Marianne said with a wide smile gazing at Bog. “It was enlightening.” She turned to Griselda with a bright blush on her cheeks. 

Griselda did her best to stop her grin from turning into a smirk. “So Bog dear, did you enjoy having Marianne along?” 

“Yes, very much!” Bog spoke swiftly then seemed to realize what he had done and swallowed. “I mean...Yes, she was good company.” 

Thang smiled around a large helping of dumplings in his mouth. “You two look cute together.” 

Stuff nodded. “I think Mariane should come with us every year!” 

Brutus nodded vigorously. “Yes!! Yes!!” 

Bog glanced over at Marianne, his expression hopeful. “Would you like to?” 

Marianne nodded, reaching out to lay her hand over Bog’s. (Griselda gasped, but she slapped her hands over her mouth to stop herself from making a sound. She was smiling so much that it hurt. Finally, someone had really seen her son!) 

“I would love to Bog.” 

Bog rotated his hand over to lightly grasp her fingers. “Then please, come for as many years as you would like.” 

The goblins all cheered. 

Griselda smiled, sighing softly. 

* 

After dinner the goblin’s helped with cleaning up. Griselda shooed Marianne and Bog into the living room. “You two go stock the fire and pull the chairs around. I’ll bring the hot chocolate and cookies in as soon as we’re done here.” 

Bog frowned. “But mother…” 

“You worked hard tonight, and I need you out of the way. Now go. Marianne, please kept my oaf of a son company while we clean up?” Griselda asked while rubbing her hands on the apron she wore. 

Marianne smiled taking Bog’s hand. “I would be happy to entertain Bog.” She giggled softly at the surprised look on Bog’s face as she led him by the hand out of the kitchen. 

Once they were gone Griselda chuckled, glancing at the goblins with a pleased look in her eyes. “I planted mistletoe in the living room, I also put a little enchantment on it, just to make everything smell Christmassy....” 

Stuff gasped. “Oh!! Perfect!!” 

Thang and Brutus both chuckled. 

Griselda sighed happily. “Maybe there will be a wedding by next Krampus night?” 

* 

Marianne led Bog down the hall to the living room, his hooves making a nice sound on the wood, his tail swishing back and forth. Marianne smiled. She liked the sound his hooves made on the floor, then stopped at the entrance to the living room when she saw something tied with red ribbon hanging over the doorway. 

Bog, who had a goofy, yet happy grin on his face at being led around by Marianne stopped, his gaze going to the mistletoe hanging over the doorway. 

“Oh,” he said in surprise. 

Marianne turned to look at him. “Did you know what mistletoe is for?” 

Bog blushed. “The druids thought it was a symbol of vivacity and ah, Frigg blessed mistletoe after her son Baldur was brought back to life, saying the plant was a symbol of love and promising to kiss all who passed under the plant…” 

Marianne stepped closer. “Yes, that’s all true. Kissing under the mistletoe is also good luck.” 

Marianne reached up, laying her hands against his chest. Bog went very still, staring down at her, his heart thudding hard. 

Marianne rose up on her tiptoes, but Bog whispered. “Marianne, you don’t have to…” 

She smiled at him, her eyes locked with his as her hands slid up to his shoulders and she pressed her body against his warm, firm form. “I know I don’t have to Bog, but I very much want to...that is...if you do.” 

Bog nodded, his hands still at his sides as if he were afraid to move them. “I would like to very much...kiss you, Marianne, more than anything.” 

Marianne reached up and brushed her fingertips along his jaw. “Then kiss me Bog.” 

Bog wrapped his arms around her, lifting her off her feet. Marianne giggled happily, her arms going around his massive shoulders. Then, their lips met. 

Marianne felt as if there was an explosion of everything that she loved about Christmas when her lips met Bog’s mouth. Marianne was enveloped in the sweet scent of his skin, his hair, his horns, the feel of his muscled body pressed against hers as if right here was where she was always meant to be. She didn’t want to stop kissing him, she couldn’t stop kissing him. She brushed her tongue against his full sensual lips, prodding gently, seeing entry. Bog opened his mouth to her, his tongue slowly sliding out to touch her tongue, only to be greeted by another explosion of sensation that washed over her, sensual, erotic flash that was equal mix lust and love. 

Bog held her tight as if afraid to let her go, his mouth moving over her sweet lips, but when their tongues touched it was as if something in him had broken open, as if Marianne had broken through his protective shell to gently caress his heart, his soul, to see him as he really was, not what he appeared to be. 

When they both pulled back enough to breathe, their foreheads pressed against each other, Marianne whispered, her breath ragged. “Take me to your room Bog.” 

Bog blinked, looking confused. “What?” 

Marianne pulled back and cupped his face. His hair, trapped between her fingers, was just as soft and silky as she had imagined it would be. She brushed her nose against his long hooked one and smiled. “I want to make love to you Bog. That is what I want for Christmas.” 

Bog held her tight but murmured. “Marianne...are you sure...I...dodon't expect or…” 

“If you don’t want me it's all right, but I do want you. You showed me a caring, beautiful man who took my heart and held it tenderly. I want this to be the first of many nights...if that is what you want too...” Marianne whispered softly. “I’ve never wanted anything more.” 

Bog smiled. “I would like...no...I would love all of that very much, Marianne. I’ve never had a Christmas wish before, but...you are my wish.” 

Marianne giggled and kissed him again. Bog turned and pressed her up against the wall under the mistletoe. Marianne wrapped her legs around his waist, their mouths and tongues moving carefully, but passionately over each others until Bog finally pulled away from the wall and carried her down the hall, past the kitchen and the stables, deeper into the house that seemed much larger on the inside than the outside until he came to an ornately carved wooden door that depicted images of deep winter trees in a vast forest and far off snow-covered peaks. Bog opened the door and carried Marianne inside. 

* 

The room came alight as soon as they entered. A round metal chandelier that hung from the ceiling lined with candles sprang to life dousing the room in a warm, buttery glow followed by the stone fireplace, which began to burn. The room smelled of pine and cinnamon. Bog’s room was head to floor dark wood, with large wooden furniture fit for a man as tall as Bog with a tail and hooves and the bed that occupied the middle of the room with a large heavily decorated headboard with images of snow fairies and trees along with a thick blood red quilt and large pillows. 

Bog kicked his door closed and carried Marianne to the bed where he laid her down. Marianne giggled, smiling up at him throwing her arms over her head. Bog grinned back at her as he grasped one of her boots and pulled it off, dropping it to the floor. Marianne pressed her teeth against her bottom lip smiling, her cheeks and ears dipped in red while Bog removed her other boot then reached up and very gently grabbed her leggings. He waited, looking at her with a cocked brow before Marianne murmured. “What are you waiting for?” 

Bog chuckled and pulled the leggings down her legs while Marianne began to undo her top. Bog tossed her leggings away, gazing in wonder at her smooth, pale, shapely legs. He very gently brushed his hands along her feet which made her giggle, then up her calves which were soft and smooth like cream. He stroked his way to her thighs, then to her hips. He grasped the panties she wore and pulled them down her legs, exposing the small triangle of dark hair at her groin. Bog’s breath became ragged. His eyes traveled up to where Marianne had pulled off her top and now removed the white cotton bra she wore, dropping everything to his floor. 

Bog took a shuddering breath gazing at her. She was more beautiful than anyone, anything he had ever seen. Soft rounded curves, small, pert breasts with nipples so rosy he through of poinsettias. His member pulsed in response to seeing her. He ached wanting her, wanting to feel her softness against him, to hold her, but mostly he wanted to please her. His eyes met her gaze as she pushed herself up on her elbow. Her lips were slightly puffy from their kissing, her cheeks were rosy and her eyes...her eyes were like magic. 

Bog’s voice was hushed. “You are beautiful.” 

Marianne shivered and smiled. “Thank you.” She glanced down to his loincloth then back to his face lifting a brow at him. 

Bog blushed swallowing. “Are you s…” 

Marianne cut him off. “I’ve never been more sure of anything.” 

Bog nodded and pulled at the bindings that held the cloth in place, then pulled it free to drop it on top of Marianne’s clothing. 

Marianne took in a startled breath, He was much bigger than she thought and gorgeous. His member was dark like the rest of him, thick and slightly curved in a way that made her groin ache as she gazed wantonly at him. She had never considered that a man could look beautiful and while Bog wasn’t a man per se with his thick muscled legs and hooves, his long, sensual tail and horns, he was every inch the man that she wanted. 

She scooted further onto the bed, hooking a finger at him. “Come here.” 

Bog’s mouth felt dry, but he crawled onto the bed after her, the frame creaking as he settled onto the bed beside her. 

Marianne rolled onto her side to face him, her smile soft. She reached up and brushed her fingers through his dark hair, brushing it behind his pointed ear then reached up and brushed the base of his horn. Bog caressed her hip, brushing the back of his claws along her perfect skin. 

Marianne whispered. “You are amazing.” 

Then, before he could answer her, she kissed him, her hand sliding down to his chest. Bog gathered her close, their kisses more heated. She tugged at his bottom lip with her lips then kissed his sharp chin, then down to his chest. She pressed her face against his smooth, warm skin inhaling his sweet scent before pressing her lips to one of his nipples. She smiled when he gasped. She brought her mouth back to his, her tongue diving between his lips. 

Marianne made a soft moan as her hand snaked down to his stomach feeling the ripple of muscles, the way his stomach contracted when she touched him. Her hand moved along his hips where she brushed her fingers through the fine fur that covered him. She moved her hand around to his back, reaching down to stroke her fingers along his tail which earned her a groan from Bog. 

Marianne smiled against his mouth, stroking her hand up and down from the base of his tail to as far as she could reach. Bog’s grip on her tightened, pulling her closer, the heat of his erection pressed against her stomach. Marianne kissed him harder, burying her tongue in his mouth. She wrapped a leg around his thigh, her foot sliding down the back of his calf until her toes brushing his hoof. 

Bog groaned against her mouth, his hand sliding up from her hip, following the curve of her body to her small breasts. He cupped her breast, the sweet, soft mound fitting perfecting in the palm of his hand. He squeezed carefully before sliding his hand down slightly to brush the side of his clawed thumb over her hard nipple. Marianne responded with a groan and a gentle thrust of her hips against him. Bog, feeling more emboldened, kissed his way down her chin to her throat. Marianne reached up and ran her hand along his curved horn while Bog kissed her shoulder, then lower to her breast. He dragged his tongue slowly against her tender flesh then lower still until the tip of his long tongue found her nipple. 

Bog dragged his tongue over her nipple and Marianne gasped loudly, arching into his attentions. 

Bog grasped her side, his hand under her breast and pulled her as close as he could, his mouth on her breast sucking gently. Marianne moaned, grasping his horn in her hand, at the same time thrusting her chest toward him. She felt a gush of pleasant heat through her body, every nerve ending was afire and she could feel everything, every touch from him, every place his breath brushed her skin, every inch of his skin where Bog touched her, every silken strand of his hair and the hot, burning heat of his erection pressed against her body, and she loved it. 

Bog rolled Marianne onto her back, pressing his pelvis between her soft legs, once more covering her mouth with his while he caressed and squeezed her breast, pressing himself between her legs. He felt the heat emanating from between her thighs while his erection throbbed at the feel of her, wet and hot against him. Bog cradled Marianne’s head with one clawed hand, kissing her long and deep while gently squeezing her breast, caressing her nipple with the tip of his thumb, his claw tickling and tantalizing against her soft skin. 

Marianne groaned running her hands down his smooth back until she came to the soft, thick hair as his hips. She moved her hands lower, grasping his backside and squeezing before once more grasping his tail. She stroked his tail, causing Bog to hiss with pleasure, his hips thrusting involuntarily. She felt his erection pressed against her entrance and she groaned. She had never ached like this. Her inside felt as if they were on fire as if she might die if Bog didn’t relieve the building tension in her body. 

“Bog...uh…” she begged. “Please…” 

Bog licked her chin, then dragged his tongue along her throat, whispering. “Marianne…” He snaked his hand down from her breast, reaching between them to slide a clawed finger between her legs. 

Marianne cried out at his touch, then gasped and groaned louder when he began to stroke his finger against her pressing and rubbing against that perfect spot as if he had always known where to touch her. Marianne grasped his shoulder, her breath ragged while Bog kissed her throat, then her chin before pushing himself up enough to watch her face, to gaze at the expression of passionate pleasure that rolled over her beautiful face while he touched her, stroking, delighting in the wetness that coated his fingers and the sounds of his pleasure which accumulated suddenly with a howl of release from her. 

Marianne rose off the bed, pressing herself against Bog, her fingers digging into the muscles of his shoulders as a wave crashed over her, causing everything to go white in her gaze for a moment before she came crashing back down again. She grabbed Bog to her, kissing his mouth hungrily, biting softly at his lips. “Bog...uh, Bog…” Marianne groaned. 

Bog was trembling. Her cries almost caused him to climax; he had never heard a more erotic sound than Marianne’s cry of pleasure. He reached down between them, grabbing himself and rubbed the head of his erection against her. Marianne shuddered and mewled, spreading her legs wide. 

“Marianne…” Bog growled her name passionately before sliding into her. 

He hissed and gasped while Marianne groaned, her body tightening around his erection. She whimpered, digging her fingers against his shoulders when he filled her, stretched her. Their bodies came together and never had anything felt so perfect. Bog had to hold himself still or all of this would have been over too soon. He steadied his breath while Marianne wrapped her legs around his thighs and stroked his face. 

“Bog…” She whispered his name tenderly. 

Bog gazed at her, pressing his lips together, his eyes rolling close for a moment before he was able to move. He thrust slowly, pressing himself as deeply into her welcoming body as he could, burying himself completely inside Marianne. 

Marianne gasped, squeezing him. She reached up and grasped his horns in her hands, biting her bottom lip as she thrust up, gasping as a tremor of another orgasm rolled over her. She yanked herself up slightly as her orgasm tensed her body, then broke again on a wave of blinding pleasure. 

Bog’s tail lashed back and forth as he tried to calm himself feeling a flood of her pleasure wash over him. It was a few tense seconds before he could move again. His thrusts remained slow, pressing deep into her, before pulling back then another deep thrust. Marianne gasped and panted. Bog felt so good, so right… 

She felt tears running from the corners of her eyes as her emotions intensified. 

Bog squeezed his eyes close as well, for a moment tears springing to him as he was overwhelmed with feelings for her. 

“Marianne, be mine…” he whispered, thrusting a little more firmly, their bodies moving together. 

Marianne arched her back, holding onto his horns for a moment before she dropped her hands back to his shoulders. “Yes Bog...if you’ll be mine.” 

Bog nodded, biting his own bottom lip when suddenly Mariane pushed, using her entire body to push him off of her and onto his back, his horns almost becoming tangled with the pillows underneath his head. Before he could respond in confusion Marianne was mounting him. She straddled him, holding his wet erection in her hand, her eyes meeting his as she slid back down on him. 

Together they cried out. 

Bog grasped her waist while Marianne pressed her hands against his chest and began to rock her hips. Bog watched her, sucking in his bottom lip. He watched Marianne in all her beauty, grind on him, driving him to distraction. He growled deep in his throat with a pleasure he had never felt before while Marianne moved on top of him. Bog brought his legs up, pressing his hooves into the bed. 

Marianne leaned against his thighs, thrusting against Bog, her fingers digging into his stomach. 

Bog reached out and brushed the swollen, wet, glistening pulse of her sex. Marianne responded with a cry. Her movements became more frantic as she rode her orgasm, willing Bog to his own. 

He struggled to hold back, but watching her, the way her skin glistened in the firelight, the beautiful expression of abandon on her face. 

He grasped her hips and holding her down on him, pleasure rippled over him in an intense wave and he came to a growling roar. 

* 

Griselda came into the living room with a tray that held mugs of steaming hot chocolate covered in mountains of whipped cream while Thang and the others carried plates of colorful Christmas cookies. 

Griselda had just arrived at the entrance to the living room, frowning when something felt off. She stepped toward the doorway just as a roar shook the entire house. 

The goblins all yelped in surprise, Thang dropping his plate of cookies while Griselda nearly dropped her tray. 

Thang gasped. “What was that?!! Is it the Christmas CAT??!” 

“And where’s Bog and Marianne?!” Stuff had rushed through the door frame to the living room only to discover neither Bog nor Marianne were there. 

Griselda looked thoughtful for a moment, then grinned like a cat. “I think the mistletoe might have worked better than I thought and I didn’t even put a love spell on it!” 

* 

Bog lay on his side with Marianne nestled in his arms, her nose against his chest, one leg wrapped around his hips. She was stroking his chest, nuzzling him, her eyes heavy and sleepy. 

Bog stroked his claws along her back, holding her tight. “You know, I think you might be on my naughty list now. A naughty list of one.” 

Marianne laughed, snuggling closer. “I wonder if my father would be upset if I only came home for picking up the list...wait...would he see that list?” She looked up at him with wide brown eyes. 

Bog simply laughed. “Don’t worry, it’s a private list.”


End file.
